


Anticipating the Drop

by Bignonbinarygay



Category: DSAF, Dayshift At Freddy's, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, i hope this is coherant lol, overuse of the word old sport, sorry if formatting is bad im very dumb, specifically in dsaf 3, takes place right before william takes jack to the fazbunker, william bein like o fuck i sure am gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23013382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bignonbinarygay/pseuds/Bignonbinarygay
Summary: It’s not the same.That much is obvious. This trip to Vegas with Dave’s dear sportsy, it's not like it used to be. Maybe the differences are obvious; what with both of them being ghosts clinging desperately to the harsh metal exoskeletons their organs are intertwined with; but it's beyond that. Maybe the alcohol, the coke; none of it makes the world buzz pleasantly like it did back in the eighties, but God it’s something else. Dave can feel it. He’s at the top of the rollercoaster, and he’s about to fall. The g-force is soon to whip and his neck will snap. Or maybe he’s at the very bottom, as he’s always been, and he’s about to find a new fuckin’ way for the earth to crumble beneath him.He’s on the precipice of something truly despicable, precariously on this edge and all he can feel is sheer emptiness, all he can do is face the drop and he is mutely surprised his dead heart clenches at this. At fate.
Relationships: DaveJack, Davesport - Relationship, William Afton/Jack Kennedy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 108





	Anticipating the Drop

It’s not the same. 

That much is obvious. This trip to Vegas with Dave’s dear sportsy, it's not like it used to be. Maybe the differences are obvious; what with both of them being ghosts clinging desperately to the harsh metal exoskeletons their organs are intertwined with; but it's beyond that. Maybe the alcohol, the coke, the whores don’t make the world buzz pleasantly like it did back in the eighties, but God it’s something else. Dave can feel it. He’s at the top of the rollercoaster, and he’s about to fall. The g-force is soon to whip and his neck will snap. Or maybe he’s at the very bottom, as he’s always been, and he’s about to find a new fuckin’ way for the earth to crumble beneath him. 

He’s on the precipice of something truly despicable, precariously on this edge and all he can feel is sheer emptiness, all he can do is face the drop and he is mutely surprised his dead heart clenches at this. At fate.

Dave Miller is not the red blooded heterosexual man he thought himself to be. He’s not quite sure when he knew it. He can’t goddamn remember when this orange baby- this tangerine fuckhead - slithered his awful way into his heart. He knows when he realized it. That night, all those years ago - goddamnit, what on God’s green shitting earth would Henry say? He doesn’t wanna think about that- that damnable night. Watching that orange motherfucker stuff that damned suit with silly putty, the only material they could get their sinners hands on- and Dave casually thought to himself that the old sport wasn’t attractive. Definitely not. But god, that smile- and careful way he globbed that shit into that suit. His kind, patient smile as he listened to Dave ramble on about the good old days, Dave was in the shit. That’s the moment he knew. 

He figured it maybe explained why he did all the things he did. He had tried to justify it to himself, Oh! He’s installing a vent shaft and cameras to ensure his partner in crime didn’t betray him or oh, he savored the residue of Sportsy’s toothbrush because. Because. 

Because what? Yeah, he’s a sick depraved fucker and he’s never been gay before alright? He’s never felt anything like this before. Had he always been gay? Is that why he was like this? To be totally honest, this whole event maybe sent him down a spiral he’s never truly confronted. Just work on the plan, Davey, don’t think, don’t you fucking think William, don’t you dare, just keep your hands busy and don’t think of how he’s home, sleeping right now, loyally awaiting your beck and call. Dave had a wheezing laugh when he realized he’d really do anything for him. 

It was different from his feelings for Henry- Oh Henry. No, Dave had embarrassingly called him father on multiple occasions. A looming figure of authority who carefully struck William into proper shape. Maybe the undying loyalty was similar. Yeah, WIllie thinks, looking at old sport’s profile, that’s the moment he knew.

Currently, they were hiding in an abandoned shitty motel, miles away from civilization, in the deep outskirts, sharing a love bed, William shakily inching away to make sure they didn’t touch. Sure, they’d touched plenty of times, but with all these damned gay butterflies in his rotting chest, its too much. He doesn’t trust himself. He hasn’t once. He can’t do it. Won’t do that to his sportsy. He feels it especially now, that numbness. The space between them almost feels like agony. Of course, every fuckin’ thing feels like agony. But it’s more than real, physical pain. It’s this unbearable vice grip around his cocking heart; yearning he thinks. He’s staring now, he can feel it. To old sport’s credit, his eyes are closed and he’s resting quietly in bed. He’s been quiet all afternoon, Dave notes. So if he notices that William has been staring, he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave doesn’t think he can take anymore of this. He’s actually twitching, his skeletal metal hands twitching to touch sportsy's- Maybe he can make this quick. Make this hypothetical- Haha, hey old sport, what if, ‘Metaphorically’ speaking, in my very core, I happened to be very gay for you? Hey elderly game, what if, as a practical joke, you never left my side, and I was your dirty fuckin’ Foxy slut? Wouldn’t that be fucking hysterical? That’d really show the lot of them, wouldn’t it, old sport?

It’s a simple matter of gambling, right? Would Dave prefer an afterlife of miserably dancing around this, or a quick stabbing to his lungs and the matters sorted? Because the agony’s too fucking bad right now. Like coming down from cocaine, but there is no coming down. The rollercoaster must drop. He can’t sit at the apex forever. God, he’s begging for it. The drop. Let him fucking down already.

He’s not used to stewing. Fucking thinking about this shit. He can’t. No thoughts, brain empty, only Gay.

“Say, old sport.” he coughs, wincing at breaking the silence so harshly. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure, Dave, what is it?”

He sits up, making eye contact with Dave, who promptly avoids it.

“I’m gunna say somethin’, and please old sport. I’m sayin’ this with all the bravery in my dastardly still heart.” Dave pauses for effect, thinking his words over. His tone turns dry, trying to have humor but he’s too damn honest. “When I tell ya what I’m feelin’, I really dunno if you’ll wanna kill me or run the fuck away. But, here goes,” he stiffly chuckles, staring firmly at the dirty bed sheets. Old sport waits patiently, as he always does. Here it comes, Dave thinks dimly, the drop. 

“I haven’t been truly happy, old sport. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot. It’s been kinda fuckin’ hauntin’ me, if I’m bein’ totally honest wit ya. This whole trip, I dunno if you’ve felt it, old sport, but I’m not all here, honest.” Dave gulps hollowly. His mouth cannot produce saliva, so he thinks it’s more of a nerves thing. Here goes.  
“I love you.” It’s quiet. Who knew two dead guys could be so quiet? “I’ve loved you for so fuckin’ long now. I’ve never been a fairy I swear, you’ve awakened these - feelings in me- enough about that, what do you say to that? Old sport?” He cut himself off from the rambling he could feel coming. In the quiet of that old motel room William is plummeting a thousand miles towards a bottomless pit, a trapeze artist could not dare catch him or risk exploding with him on impact. The goo that was his gut is especially rotten at this moment. He held a breathe he couldn’t have.

“What do I say, Dave?”

“To that?”

It’s quiet again.

“Dave... I think... I need time.”

Ground meets you. The fall wasn’t so bad. It’s not a no. It’s not an attack. It’s not fire.

“Oh?” Dave meekly replies. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I need time. I know I love you Dave. I don’t know if...” he is also avoiding eye contact. “If it’s like that.”

“I can live with that,” maybe taking a dirt nap isn’t the end of the world, William thinks.

What he doesn’t know is the shiver of anticipation Jack feels down his spine. This is easier than he fucking thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! Sorry i abandoned all my shit, depression and hyper focusing on things will do that. Anyways after like, a year of nothin, this! Man i sure love introspection lol


End file.
